The first page of the score for Florent Schmitt’s harpsichord suite Clavecin obtempérant, composed in 1945 for Marcelle de Lacour.

Over a lengthy career spanning more than seven decades, French composer Florent Schmitt created numerous works that showcased the special qualities of various different instruments — including some that are not so often the “featured celebrities” in scores.

As an accomplished keyboard artist, it’s no surprise that the composer’s catalogue of works contains many entries featuring the piano. But Schmitt also explored the sonorities of the harpsichord. Indeed, one of his best-known chamber music compositions — the Sonatine en trio from 1936 — was originally published in a version for flute, clarinet and harpsichord. (Later versions prepared by Schmitt included one for flute/clarinet/piano and one for violin/cello/piano.)

Marcelle de Lacour, photographed at the beginning of her musical career (1920s).

A decade following the appearance of the Sonatine en trio, Florent Schmitt returned to the harpsichord for a new work — this time creating a four-movement suite for solo instrument that Schmitt composed for the esteemed French harpsichord soloist and teacher Marcelle de Lacour.

As a student of the great Wanda Landowska and as an artist who would live a full century (1896-1997), Mme. de Lacour was one of the best harpsichord performers and teachers France has ever produced. She was active on the Parisian musical scene beginning in the mid-1920s, as well as serving as a professor at the Paris Conservatoire beginning in 1955.

In the 1940s and 1950s Mme. de Lacour was also active as a performing artist, appearing with the most important Parisian orchestras as well as in recital with other prominent musicians, including members of the Pasquier Trio, the flautist Jean-Pierre Rampal and the oboist Pierre Pierlot.

Marcelle de Lacour in later life (1990s).

Naturally, she excelled in music of the Baroque and Classical periods — particularly French repertoire such as Lully, Couperin and Rameau. But perhaps even more consequential was her involvement with contemporary music — including championing new repertoire created for her to perform.

Indeed, the list of composers who created works for Marcelle de Lacour is impressive — some 70 artists, chief among them Bohuslav Martinů, Alexandre Tansman, Jean Langlais, George Migot, Paul Ladmirault … and Florent Schmitt. (In addition, she prepared harpsichord arrangements of the music of Poulenc, Honegger, Ibert, Koechlin, Villa-Lobos and Bartók, among others.)

As French organist and composer Thierry Escaich, artistic director of the Foundation at the time of the first competition in 2007, has written:

“Like the organ, the harpsichord can aspire to find a place in future creativity, while continuing to set forth the musical heritage of which it is part.”

Wanda Landowska (1879-1959), photographed at the harpsichord in 1937.

The piece that Florent Schmitt created for Marcelle de Lacour in 1945 is an absolutely fascinating composition. It is a four-movement suite bearing the tongue-in-cheek name Clavecin obtempérant, Op. 107 (“The Ill-Tempered Clavier”). The title is a riff on Johann Sebastian Bach’s harpsichord magnum opus, the Well-Tempered Clavier — some 48 preludes and fugues that were reintroduced to modern audiences early in the 20th century by Marcelle de Lacour’s famous teacher, Wanda Landowska.

[This wasn’t the only time that Florent Schmitt would apply clever or ironic names to his compositions. Another cheeky example is his 1955 quartet Pour presque tous les temps (“Quartet for Almost All the Time”) — a play on Olivier Messiaen’s Quartet for the End of Time — and of a completely different character compared to Messiaen’s creation.]

Marcelle de Lacour gave the first performance of Clavecin obtempérant at a Société National de Musique recital on February 26, 1946. A dozen years later the harpsichordist entered the studios of French National Radio and performed the work for national broadcast (on July 11, 1957).

More than likely, the by-then-elderly Schmitt was in attendance at that performance, giving it a certain official imprimatur.

Having had the opportunity hear Clavecin obtempérant at last, I find that it is an utterly amazing composition. The 15-minute piece is in four movements that unfold as follows:

I. Modéré et très rythmé

II. Vif

III. Un peu lent

IV.Animé

One could characterize the music as “poly-everything.” It is polytonal and polyrhythmic — rooted in tonality but with things always a little askew. The musical language is muscular yet very “French,” and it’s utterly fascinating in the way the musical arguments are presented … then broken apart and put back together again.

Even the slow third movement — which in many of Schmitt’s compositions is where he comes closest to capturing the spirit of his teacher and mentor Gabriel Faure — is one with a distinctly ironic edge to it.

And the final chord in the last movement — a sort of musical stick in the ribs — underscores further the “wink-wink-nudge-nudge” character of the music. This is an “ill-tempered clavier” indeed — but it’s not unlike the ornery relative one encounters in nearly every family — you know, the person who is endlessly interesting even as he or she tests everyone’s patience.

One of the volumes in RCA Victor’s 6-LP set of the complete Bach Well-Tempered Clavier, recorded by Wanda Landowska (1949-52).

Although I don’t know for sure what kind of harpsichord Marcelle de Lacour used for her 1957 ORTF performance, to my ears it sounds very much like the type of full-bodied Pleyel “revival” instrument utilized by Wanda Landowska when making her RCA Victor 6-LP complete recording Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier.

Musicologists may disagree lustily over whether the choice of a Pleyel model for recording Landowska’s Bach works was the “properly authentic” one, but for a piece like the Florent Schmitt Clavecin obtempérant, it seems like indisputably the right choice.

A Pleyel harpsichord from the 1930s.

I’ve found that Clavecin obtempérant is a robust composition that pays new musical dividends with each subsequent hearing. There is so much going on in each movement of the suite, it requires multiple auditions for everything to settle in and for the broader narrative of the music to become clear.

Undoubtedly, the piece is a major musical (re)discovery — and one that deserves a place in the repertoire of every serious harpsichord artist.

A handwritten note from Alain Deguernel, founder and head of Forgotten Records, enclosed with the new CD shipped in December 2018.

Marcelle de Lacour’s performance of Clavecin obtempérant is available on a newly issued Forgotten Records release. The new recording also contains classic 1960 performances of chamber works by Ravel, Roussel and Schmitt as performed by members of the Marie-Claire Jamet Quintet (those selections were originally released on the Erato label). The disc can be ordered directly from the Forgotten Records website, and the label ships internationally.

My recommendation would be to listen to the recording while following along with the score to Clavecin obtempérant. See if you aren’t surprised and delighted by rich musical invention in this endlessly fascinating piece of music.

Of the many fellow composers who Schmitt interacted with during his lengthy career, one with whom he shared an enduring professional and personal bond was Maurice Ravel. The two artists were born just five years apart – Schmitt in 1870 and Ravel in 1875 – and were fellow-students at the Paris Conservatoire. Thus, they found themselves inextricably linked together in the musical life of Paris in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Florent Schmitt and Maurice Ravel made their U.K. performing debut in 1909 on the very same program at Wigmore Hall in London. Both composers performed their own piano works and accompanied vocalists.

Early on, we find the two composers collaborating in performances of their piano music – including a trip to London in 1909 during which they presented their piano duo compositions together in recital at Bechstein (now Wigmore) Hall.

Schmitt and Ravel were also founding members of the Société des Apaches, a group of French musicians, painters and writers formed in 1900 who represented the more non-conformist strains of Parisian artistic society. In addition to Ravel and Schmitt, members of the group included composers such as Manuel de Falla and Igor Stravinsky as well as literary figures like Léon-Paul Fargue.

There have been several accounts written about the time Ravel announced to his circle of Apache friends that it was impossible to write effectively for piano anymore. Florent Schmitt then proceeded to create his remarkable Les Lucioles (Fireflies, Op. 23, No. 2) in reaction to his friend’s contention, which subsequently prompted Ravel to compose his famous Jeux d‘eau. This incident illustrates how closely linked these two figures were in day-to-day Parisian musical life – and how each fed off of the other’s inspiration.

As a prominent music critic over a span of three decades, Florent Schmitt had many opportunities to comment on performances of Ravel’s compositions. At the premiere of Ravel’s Rapsodie espagnole in 1908, the second movement (Malagueña) was met with a hostile reaction in some quarters of the audience. In response, Schmitt was heard calling from the gallery, “Once more, for the ladies and gentlemen below who haven’t understood!”

The admiration was mutual. Following the premiere performance of Florent Schmitt’s monumental Psaume XLVII on the day after Christmas in 1906, Ravel wrote to the composer, “My dear Schmitt, your Psalm is so profound and so powerful, it nearly shattered the concert hall!”

[Interestingly, Schmitt was less sanguine about Ravel’s most famous piece – the Boléro – characterizing that creation as “a unique error in the career of the artist least subject to error.”]

With the benefit of hindsight, we can now recognize just how significant the artistic output of both composers was in the realm of music. Ravel is much better known, but both composers’ oeuvres reflect, in the words of musicologist Jerry Rife, “a bold and colorful depiction of what is surely the most vibrant and exciting period in the history of French music.”

Esa-Pekka Salonen

Certainly, the compelling attraction of Ravel’s captivating scores has influenced and inspired successive generations of musicians. Very likely, many would agree with the view of conductor and composer Esa-Pekka Salonen who has observed, “Today, the future of classical music has a lot to do with Debussy, Ravel and Stravinsky, and less to do with Schönberg, Berg and Webern.”

Michael Feingold

Undoubtedly, one of those in agreement is Michael Feingold, an orchestrator whose artistic journey has taken him from the world of rock/pop to classical music – in particular the music of France’s “golden age” as characterized by Dr. Rife. Indeed, since 2014, he has orchestrated no fewer than twenty Ravel compositions that were created originally for piano or voice.

I became aware of Michael Feingold’s activities through mutual acquaintances, and I’ve found his personal journey from “rock musician” to “Ravel specialist” quite fascinating. Recently, I had the opportunity to ask him about that journey. Highlights of our discussion are presented below.

PLN: Please tell us about your musical background, and how you came to be interested in the works of Maurice Ravel. What was the “spark”?

MEF: To answer that, I guess we need to dip back to my early years. I began playing guitar around the age of 12, being fascinated by Jimi Hendrix and “grunge” music then playing on MTV. I played guitar in various bands beginning at the age of 15, and “gigging” on the weekends while still in high school. I was playing with mostly older musicians.

After high school I attended Berklee College of Music in Boston for two years, studying guitar. While at Berklee I started playing at a historic jazz club called Wally’s Café – well-known as a breeding ground for young musicians.

Those experiences led to my first tour in 2005 when I received the call to play guitar backing Queen Latifah. After that tour I moved to Los Angeles and began my professional touring and recording career with artists like Jay-Z, The Roots, Erykah Badu and Kanye West.

After about a decade of touring the world with these pop artists, I began to want something more for myself, and that slowly led to orchestration. I think a pivotal moment for me was when I was playing guitar for Jay-Z at Carnegie Hall. I helped out a tiny bit with a few of the arrangements, and in that moment I realized that I preferred being the orchestrator to being the guitar player!

Erykah Badu (2011 Photo)

As for the Ravel “spark,” I remember being in France and purchasing a few Ravel scores – then sitting under a tree in the countryside outside Lyon before a concert with Erykah Badu, just reading them and trying to imagine all of the sounds inside of the pages.

I attribute the most precious aspects of my craft to Alan’s teaching and guidance. Given that he taught the fundamental elements of the French aesthetic, I learned a great deal about refinement, clarity and transparency using pure colors. I consider these to be quintessentially “French” aspects of musicality; I hope I’m not stereotyping!

PLN: Beyond Alan Belkin, are there other mentors or musicians who have been influential in your development as an orchestrator?

Claus Ogerman (1930-2016)

MEF: As far as harmonic influence, I’d have to say the German-American composer and arranger Claus Ogerman. His harmonies just knock me over – particularly his Lyric Suite and Elegia.

PLN: Returning to Ravel, can you tell us a bit more about how his music speaks to you so compellingly?

MEF: I became interested in Ravel firstly as a listener. I remember spending many hours on the tour bus listening to his piano pieces while looking out the window. Perhaps it was an antidote to the kind of music I was playing on tour, but I found Ravel’s harmonies to be so elegant and wonderful, and his musical architecture and form unusually airtight and indestructible.

Later, as I continued my studies in orchestration, I kept going back to Ravel’s scores, admiring them for their craftsmanship and attention to detail. I really worked to absorb how he’d put everything together – line by line.

What I discovered in the process was that nothing in Ravel’s orchestrations is left to chance, and the result is the kind of perfection that’s rarely encountered – even in classical music.

This initial exposure led to a desire to acquire Ravel’s handwritten manuscripts, where I could compare the printed scores to what the composer had originally created. And there were numerous discrepancies, as it turned out.

PLN: Are there other French composers from the same era that captivate you as much as Ravel?

Charles Koechlin (1867-1950)

MEF: Charles Koechlin has been a big influence on me as an orchestrator. I’ve carefully studied all four volumes of his treatise on orchestration and I’m a better orchestrator because of it. Koechlin was a very giving teacher and left no stone unturned in terms of explaining the craft.

Through Ravel and Koechlin, I also discovered Florent Schmitt, Louis Aubert, Marcel Tournier and Maurice Delage, not to mention the earlier generation of French masters including Massenet, Saint-Saëns, Fauré, Chabrier and Andre Gédalge. Taken as a whole it is an uncommonly wonderful musical heritage – France’s gift to the world.

PLN: Let’s turn to your activity with the Ravel orchestrations. When did this work begin for you?

MEF: My work on the Ravel orchestrations began in the fall of 2014 when I moved back to the East Coast from Los Angeles. The first piece that I transcribed for orchestra was a prelude the composer had created in 1913 for students’ sight-reading testing at the Paris Conservatoire. In preparing that particular orchestration, the harmony and simplicity reminded me very much of Ma Mère l’oye, so my model was that piece.

Michael Feingold’s home and studio in the Berkshire Mountains of rural Western Massachusetts. The architecturally significant, historic house is the perfect environment for his orchestration activities, including the preparation of twenty Ravel scores. The feline in the photo is named Mouni, after Ravel’s own cat.

That prelude was the first of twenty Ravel compositions that I’ve now orchestrated. As I’ve worked on each one, I’m reminded again and again that Ravel was one of the greatest orchestrators who ever lived – perhaps even the single best one.

It’s quite daunting – and humbling – to orchestrate anything by Ravel. How does one do better than Ravel – or even approach that level of artistry and craftsmanship? I just try for clarity, refinement and “polish on top of polish” as I suspect Ravel would have done.

PLN: Do you have a particular favorite among all of the Ravel orchestrations that you’ve prepared?

MEF: I think I’m most happy with Sur l’herbe. All of the original piano textures in that 1907 composition are very orchestral in nature. I’ve often wondered why Ravel didn’t choose to orchestrate it himself.

PLN: This endeavor seems so important – not just the new orchestrations but also the work you’ve done in identifying copyist errors in Ravel’s published scores …

MEF: Indeed it is! My work in tracking errors in the printed editions began as a study exercise, but now I see it as highly valuable to anyone wanting to prepare critical editions of the music. I’ve collected every Ravel manuscript I can find from various collections. In the process, I’ve discovered so many errors and discrepancies – including ones that are even missed in critical editions.

Michael Feingold working in his studio in the Berkshires.

In addition to that effort, I’ve also been focusing on writing about Ravel’s orchestration style. One such endeavor focuses on his orchestration preferences, including his treatment of color and clarity.

The other focuses on how Ravel orchestrated his own piano music (as well as the piano works of other composers such as Debussy’s Danse and Sarabande), and examines specific gestures using a before/after side-by-side analysis from piano to orchestra. My tentative title for that book is Textures & Gestures of Maurice Ravel.

I feel that there is a void in Ravel’s published orchestrations in that the original piano parts aren’t displayed at the bottom of the page — the one exception being the Arbie Orenstein Eulenberg edition of Pictures at an Exhibition. As an orchestrator, seeing the two together is highly valuable because you can really discern what Ravel was thinking about in the instrumentation.

I have already prepared many of the works in this fashion as a learning aid, and I hope to publish them at some point with Francois Dru as part of his wonderful Ravel Edition series produced in concert with Les Amis de Maurice Ravel.

PLN: Going beyond Ravel, I understand that you have also been engaged in a project regarding the Durand published editions. Can you tell me about that initiative?

MEF: The goal of this project is to create a faithful reproduction of the Durand et fils “house style” of published music scores. For the past three years I’ve been working to re-create the famous Durand “look”, which is so elegant and inviting when compared to the house styles of other publishing firms. As you know, Durand was the publisher of the French composers we all adore – Debussy, Ravel, Florent Schmitt, Roussel, Aubert and so many others.

I consider this project highly important because Durand abandoned that “house style” long ago, and there exists no commercial music or text fonts from that bygone era. To resurrect it has been an exhaustive “labor of love,” to say the least!

PLN: It does sound like an arduous endeavor. Tell us more about how you’ve approached this work.

A vintage copy of the score to Maurice Ravel’s L’Heure espagnole, published by Durand (1911).

MEF: I began with a rare first edition of Ravel’s L’Heure espagnole, published by Durand in 1911. Actually, I obtained two copies of that first edition, including one that had belonged to the American composer David Diamond who had been a friend of Ravel’s. (That edition also contained a few notes in Diamond’s own hand regarding Ravel’s orchestration.)

The approach was to scan each individual musical glyph at high resolution (note heads, stems, clefs, lines, numbers and so forth). This was done five times over. Out of the five “specimens” scanned, the next step would be placing and tracing them in a software program, and lastly placing them into Sibelius notation software.

But it’s more involved than even that. In addition to creating all of the music and text fonts, one has to be “scientific” about carefully studying all of the spacings and line thicknesses, the angle of the beams and so many other factors that go into re-creating the Durand “house look.”

Matthew Maslanka

Needless to say, this is a project that’s taken a number of years to complete. In its infant stages, it was just myself and my wonderful copyist collaborator, the New York City-based music engraver Matthew Maslanka.

Later on, I met Jawher Matmati, a Tunisian musician now residing in Belgium who shared our love for the Durand “house style” and who had already begun to create his own music font.

Jawher Matmati

He and I began collaborating on the laborious steps in the process. We enlisted a fourth person – Wesselin Christoph Karaatanassov in Bulgaria – a music engraver who would trace our scans using software. When that task was complete, it would go to Jawher who would place each individual glyph into Sibelius along with scaling it properly.

It was a truly “transnational” endeavor.

An example of the re-creation of the Durand “house style.” The project has been multi-year effort involving a transnational team of experts led by Michael Feingold.

PLN: Where can we see applications of the re-created Durand “house style” today?

The Ravel Boléro Edition, published in 2018.

MEF: For the moment, I have been using it for my own orchestrations of Ravel’s music and for demonstrating examples in the books I’m writing.

I also see the Durand house style being highly valuable for anyone who wishes to engrave music that presents that classic look. For instance, if there was a Florent Schmitt composition that only existed in manuscript form – such as his Prix de Rome cantata submissions, the early Ramayana-inspired symphonic poem Combat de Rakshasas et délivrance de Sitâ or the large-scale choral work Fête de la lumière that inaugurated the nightly light-and-water shows at the Paris Exposition in 1937 – using this re-created Durand “house style” would be 100% faithful to the period.

MEF: I still have a foot in the R&B and pop music world. I continue to work extensively in film and videogame orchestration, including as the lead orchestrator for Bungie’s Destiny series.

In film, my biggest influence is probably Conrad Pope who has prepared orchestrations for John Williams, Alexandre Desplat, James Newton Howard, Danny Elfman and others. To me, Conrad is the Ravel of film orchestrators – and he’s also been kind enough to answer the occasional questions from me as I’ve worked in this realm.

I’ve just been notified that an album I cowrote and performed on, titled Chris Dave and The Drumhedz, has been nominated for this year’s GRAMMY® award as “Best Urban Contemporary Album.”

I also have plans to continue teaching privately, which I have done for some time now.

Maison Ravel (Montfort l’Amaury, France)

On the Ravel front, my most immediate objective is to take a sabbatical from my other activities, rent a house near Monfort l’Amaury where Ravel lived, and complete my Ravel books. I would also love to examine the microfilm documentation of the Taverne Collection at the Bibliothèque National de France, which contains so many of Ravel’s most rare and remarkable manuscripts.

Beyond this, a longer-term dream is to have my Ravel orchestrations performed in some capacity as individual pieces or as a full program, and I would also love to see them published as a collection.

_________________

Considering Michael Feingold’s considerable efforts on behalf of a universally beloved composer who left us relatively few orchestral works, it would be excellent indeed if his new Ravel orchestrations could be made available for conductors and orchestras to perform. The list below shows all twenty of these orchestrations, ordered by the year of their original composition:

A page from the manuscript for Florent Schmitt’s Musiques intimes (Book 2), signed and dated by the composer (September 1902).

Florent Schmitt may be best-known for his opulent orchestral scores, most of which were written in the first three decades of the 20th century. But Schmitt’s compositional career, which spanned more than seven decades beginning in the late 1880s, contains so much more than just those creations.

Taking a look at the composer’s extensive catalogue — some 138 items plus additional works without opus numbers — we notice a preponderance of vocal and piano music produced early in the composer’s career. The large quantity of such scores shouldn’t be surprising, considering that the piano was Schmitt’s own primary instrument.

In these early works, the composer’s unique style isn’t fully on display, and influences of other composers — most notably Schumann, Chopin and Fauré — are certainly evident. Still, these works are full of musical imagination and are highly rewarding taken on their own terms.

Two charming sets of piano miniatures that date from this early period are the Musiques intimes. The composer created two “books” of pieces, each made up of six numbers. Book 1 was composed between 1891 and 1900 and was published by Heugel in 1901. As such, the music pre-dates Schmitt’s Prix de Rome period (1900-04), during which time the composer traveled extensively throughout Europe, North Africa and the Middle East, gathering up new musical influences along the say.

The six movements of Musiques intimes (Book 1), Op. 16 are as follows:

Aux Rochers de Naye (At Rochers de Naye Mountain)

Sur le chemin désert (On a Desert Road)

Silence troublé (Troubled Silence)

Promenade au Lido (Walk to the Lido)

Dans la forêt ensoleillée (In a Sunny Forest)

Chanson des feuilles (Song of the Leaves)

Ivo Kaltchev

In the words of the Ivo Kaltchev, the Bulgarian-American pianist who has made the only commercial recording of Book 1, these six pieces fall firmly within in the 19th century tradition of pianism. Kaltchev writes:

The subject matter of each of the movements in Book 1 seems completely in keeping with the character of so many “salon” piano pieces being published at the end of the 19th century. In describing them, the words of the composer Pierre-Octave Ferroud (and Schmitt’s student) have particular resonance:

“… Refreshing reveries in the midst of a peaceful nature from which cares are missing … where there is no trouble for the morrow, when life is easy, eventless and happy.”

Collectively, the six pieces that make up Book I of Musiques intimes are fewer than 12 minutes in length, and for the most part the music poses few technical challenges for performers.

French pianist Marguerite Long (1874-1966), photographed in about 1900.

Although historical documentation is somewhat sketchy, it appears that the famed pianist Marguerite Long performed these pieces as early as 1907, but whether her presentation was actually the premiere outing of this music is difficult to ascertain. It is possible — even likely — that various numbers in Book 1 received other public performances prior to when Marguerite Long took them up.

Several years were to elapse between the publication of Book 1 and the appearance of a second set of pieces under the name Musiques intimes (Book 2), Op. 29. The six pieces that make up Book 2 were composed between 1898 and 1904, meaning that several of the numbers in this set were created during Schmitt’s time at the Villa Medici in Rome.

The six pieces that make up Book 2 are as follows:

Cloître (Cloister)

Sillage (Sea-wake)

Brises (Breezes)

Lac (The Lake)

Poursuite (Pursuit)

Glas (Knell)

The original manuscript for the “Cloître” movement of Florent Schmitt’s Musiques intimes (Book 2), prepared in the composer’s characteristically precise, meticulous handwriting.

As in Book 1, these pieces are introspective in their mood (with the exception of Poursuite) … and yet, as Ivo Kaltchev has written:

“The coloristic harmonic language marks a further stylistic development into impressionism. Here, in addition to the familiar impressionistic devices such as modality, parallelism, ostinatos, shimmering arpeggio figurations, etc., one can easily notice the characteristic features that would become a signature of Schmitt’s piano idiom: contrapuntal textures, an orchestral approach to the instrument, and complex rhythmic designs.”

The greater musical complexity of the six pieces that make up Book 2 contributes to the length of the composition — 16 minutes as compared to 12 for Book 1. Moreover, the music is more technically challenging for pianists — and more virtuosic in places.

Book 2 of Musique intimes was published by Mathot/Salabert in 1912, nearly a decade following the work’s completion. In the meantime, its various movements were premiered by different pianists such as Marthe Dron and Ariane Hugon.

Alain Raës

The two sets of Musiques intimes haven’t achieved the same degree of awareness and popularity as Soirs, another early Schmitt collection of piano pieces. Part of the reason may be that while the composer orchestrated Soirs — as he did much of his other piano music — he did not do so for either set of Musiques intimes.

First recording of Musiques intimes Book 2: Alain Raës (1985).

Despite its relative obscurity, thankfully we do have several fine recordings of this music. The French pianist Alain Raës recorded Book 2 in 1985. It was released on the FY label as part of a 2-LP anthology of Florent Schmitt’s piano music.

Unfortunately, while most of the original recording’s music was reissued in the CD era, the Musiques intimes Book 2 wasn’t among them, due to space constraints on the compact disc. As a result, this recording of Book 2 isn’t easy to find.

First recording of both sets of Musiques intimes: Ivo Kaltchev (2001).

In addition to these commercial recordings, a number of French pianists have made it a point to include various numbers from Musique intimes as part of their recital programs. One such pianist is Anne Queffélec. Her 2014 performance of the final piece in Book 2 (Glas) at Oji Hall in Tokyo, Japan was captured on audio and is available to hear on YouTube.

But even with the advocacy of some pianists, there’s no question these charming miniatures deserve to be better-known — and championed by more pianists. Each of the pieces in both sets is its own special gem, and collectively the music is represents pianism on a high level. Hopefully, more performers will add Musiques intimes to their recital repertoire and present its charms to more audiences around the world.

To younger music-lovers, the name Christian Ferras may not be well-recognized. But Ferras, who lived from 1933 to 1982, was one of the finest violinists of the 20th century.

Unfortunately, it was a career cut short by suicide at the age of just 49 years, but during his 25 years on the stage, Christian Ferras established a reputation as an uncommonly fine and insightful violinist.

Even today, Christian Ferras’ interpretations of the concerti of Bach, Beethoven, Brahms, Tchaikovsky, Sibelius and Alban Berg are considered non pareil by many music critics.

Many of the most famous Christian Ferras / Pierre Barbizet recording collaborations have been gathered together in this multi-CD set released on the Brilliant label.

Ferras was also very prolific in performing instrumental music, including the most famous violin sonatas in the repertoire. His keyboard collaborator for much of his career was the pianist Pierre Barbizet, who made many noteworthy recordings with Ferras that remain prized by violin aficionados.

Unfortunately, Christian Ferras suffered from acute depression during most of his life, which surely contributed to an alcohol problem that threatened to derail his career several times. In the mid-1970s the violinist stepped away from performing and touring for a number of years, eventually planning his comeback to the stage.

Sancan was particularly praiseworthy of the young Lefèvre, predicting a great career for the artist. So it came as no surprise that Ferras would plot his comeback with Lafèvre, beginning with a tour planned for the Iberian Peninsula.

Together with his new pianist, Ferras began preparing an ambitious collection of music for the Iberian tour — repertoire that included Florent Schmitt’s amazing (and incredibly challenging) Sonate libre en deux parties enchaînées, ad modem clementis aquæ, Op. 68. Composed in 1918-19, the Sonate was a work hardly ever programmed — and only then by the most adventuresome musicians.

Alas, the spectacular comeback was not to be. Mere weeks before the beginning of the tour, Christian Ferras ended his own life.

Alain Lefèvre

Decades later, the tragedy still affects Alain Lefèvre, who over a span of just 24 months had developed a deep respect and affection for a man whose talents he admired so much. That was clear in an interview I was privileged to have with the pianist following a concert with the Virginia Symphony Orchestra where he performed the 1946 Fourth Piano Concerto of the Québécois composer André Mathieu (Lefèvre has been an ardent champion of Mathieu’s music for more than 30 years).

Walter Boudreau

Indeed, the pianist has been blessed with a highly successful international career, performing solo, chamber and orchestral performances on every continent. He presents the “core” piano repertoire while also championing less-familiar creations by musicians such as Mathieu and another Canadian composer, Walter Boudreau. Recently, Lefèvre signed with Warner Classics, for which he will be making a substantial number of new recordings covering a range of varied repertoire.

My interview with Alain Lefèvre, a gregarious and open-hearted gentleman, was thoroughly engaging and informative. Highlights of the discussion are presented below.

PLN: During your days as a student at the Paris Conservatoire, how did your paths cross with Christian Ferras?

A photo of pianist Alain Lefèvre, taken at the time of his arrival in Paris in 1979.

AL: That’s an interesting story. In a few words, I came to Paris in 1979. Shortly thereafter I was asked to participate in a piano competition in Milan. It went very well and I won the prize. Following that, Radio-France engaged me for a piano recital that was part of the prize. I remember that I played pieces by Rachmaninov and Chopin, plus a piano prelude by André Mathieu.

Christian Ferras, who was the violin teacher of my brother Gilles, listened to that radio broadcast. Evidently he was impressed, because he came to my brother and said, “Listen, I want to make my comeback, but I cannot make my comeback with Pierre Barbizet because that will remind me too much of my bad habits.” (Ferras had had tremendous troubles with alcoholism.)

Ferras decided that he wanted to do his comeback with me as his pianist. The first piece I performed with him was the Bach Sonata for Violin and Piano, at the Salle Gaveau in Paris. So that was my first contact and activity with him.

The Salle Gaveau concert notice (March 1982).

PLN: How did you come to study and prepare Florent Schmitt’s Sonate libre with him?

Pianist Alain Lefèvre’s student digs in the 17th arrondissement of Paris (2 Square Emmanuel Chabrier). To reach Lefèvre’s “chamber de bonne” would require Christian Ferras and other visitors to enter via the back door of the building.

He proposed preparing music for us to take on tour in Spain and Portugal, to which I replied, “Maître, of course!”

For the tour we prepared the great violin sonatas – the Beethoven #7, Beethoven #5, the Grieg, the Lekeu and the Franck. But Ferras also wanted to include music that isn’t performed so often. He wanted to do the Bartók. And he said, “I want to take time to work the Schmitt two-movement Sonate as well.”

Pierre Sancan, photographed during the time he mentored the young Alain Lefèvre at the Paris Conservatoire (1980-82).

Immediately I thought of what my piano teacher, the great Pierre Sancan, had told me about Florent Schmitt’s piano music – about how terribly difficult it is!

But Ferras was adamant. And so we started preparing together, in my little room. We worked on the Grieg, the two Beethoven, the Franck, the Bartók – and then we started on the Schmitt.

PLN: What do you think attracted Christian Ferras to the Sonate libre?

AL: Ferras felt that it was too repetitious to perform only the same violin repertoire that’s always presented – Beethoven, Brahms, Franck, blah-blah-blah. He was coming out of a pretty terrible period in his life and he wanted to do something more than just the standard pieces.

To Ferras, Florent Schmitt was a musical genius, and he was concerned that Schmitt’s music wasn’t played as often as it should be. He said to me, “You know, many people incorrectly judge the music of Schmitt as too Germanophile.”

When we started to work on the piece for the tour, it was absolutely fantastic.

PLN: What were your own impressions of the Sonate libre when you first encountered it?

AL: For me, it was enormous work. People always say that the Franck Sonata is challenging for the pianist. That say that the Bartók is difficult for the piano. But those pieces are nothing when compared to the Schmitt.

The Sonate libre is amazingly difficult – not just technically, but also in the way that it’s played. The piano should never be “above” the violin.

There’s also a lot of “mystique” in the piece, and Ferras and I tried to understand that, too. The music is like a tapestry.

PLN: So, how did the rehearsing work out?

A young Alain Lefèvre, photographed during the time he worked with violinist Christian Ferras.

AL: We worked and worked on that piece, getting it into shape. But just two or three weeks before we were to start on our tour, Ferras committed suicide. Just 49 years old. It was very sad.

So, the tour never happened. It’s difficult to speak about it even today without getting emotional.

Many times, I’ve thought that I should have recorded my rehearsals with Ferras, because they were so extraordinary. He would tell me, “Alain, I’m not playing well today.” But in reality, his playing was fantastic.

The intelligence of the man – the playing and the sound that he brought to the Schmitt Sonate in particular – it was unbelievable. I don’t want to speak ill of the recordings that exist of this music, but his playing was in a different league.

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Sonate libre, inscribed by pianist Alain Lefèvre.

PLN: Do you know if Christian Ferras had performed the Sonate libre before you began to work on it with him?

AL: We haven’t found evidence that he performed this music in recital, based on the program booklets that have survived. But there are people who are quite sure that Ferras did play this music at some point.

I suspect so as well, because when we rehearsed together, Ferras would point out certain things, noting how certain parts of the score were particularly difficult or tricky. From this, I know for sure that he knew the Sonate – that he had studied it even if he’d never performed it in public.

PLN: For decades there was just one commercial recording available of the Sonate libre, made in the late 1950s. But in recent years there has been more interest in this music, and the newest commercial recording, due out in November, will be the fifth one of the piece. To what do you attribute this increase in interest?

Alain Lefèvre at the piano with the score to Florent Schmitt’s Sonate libre (2018).

AL: Honestly, I think it is a sin that this music went for so long not being heard and that performers didn’t put more energy into presenting this piece – or any music by this composer, for that matter.

Of course, concert managers often think that only familiar repertoire will fill the hall. But I feel differently. Schmitt can do that as well. Not long ago, I presented the Buffalo Philharmonic’s recording of Schmitt’s Antoine et Cléopâtre on my Canadian classical music radio show. A number of people wrote to me, thanking me for helping them discover music that they found out was so amazing. So, I think we have to fight for this kind of music.

I just signed a recording contract with Warner Classics, and together we are planning to release new recordings that feature the repertoire I played with Ferras, since I was his last pianist. I hope that the Schmitt will be one of those pieces — most likely with a violinist who is on the current artists’ roster of the label.

PLN: That brings me to another question: Even though you didn’t have the chance to present the Sonate libre with Christian Ferras, have you performed the music since then?

An Artur Rubinstein masterclass (Israel, 1980).

AL: Yes, I did so shortly thereafter – but it was a private performance. It was in a salon as part of a master class with Artur Rubinstein along with an audience of about 30 students and other musicians. My brother Gilles and I performed one movement of the Sonate libre. Considering that it was in front of the great Rubinstein, I can tell you that it was a very tense moment and I was certainly sweating!

PLN: Do you have future plans to perform the Sonate libre in public?

AL: The first plan would be to record the piece. It would be a great dream to record it with Warner Classics. I’m certainly looking forward to making a recording with a violinist who can do the piece justice – giving the music all the attention and dignity that it deserves.

After that, who knows? But I would love to perform this music wherever I can.

___________________

We are particularly pleased to learn that Alain Lefèvre is making plans to record the Sonate libre so many decades following his collaboration with Christian Ferras — and we’re equally grateful to him for sharing his personal memories of that special collaboration from long ago.

As infectiously delightful as Pour presque tous les temps is, I find little evidence that the music has been performed in North America with any frequency. Indeed, with the exception of a performance of just the slow movement presented by the CreArtBox Music Ensemble in New York City last year, I have found no record of the piece being programmed anywhere on the continent in the past 30+ years — all of which made the presentation by the Scarab Club Chamber Music Series that much more welcome.

Florent Schmitt’s composition was part of an adventuresome concert of music that also included works by Gabriel Fauré, Egon Kornauth and Michael Gandolfi. It’s the sort of programming that’s par for the course at the Scarab Club Chamber Music Series, which often showcases lesser known-yet-highly worthy repertoire.

The inventive October 7, 2018 Scarab Club Chamber Music Series concert program.

Underscoring this emphasis, future Scarab concerts this season will feature string trios by the Hungarian composer Léo Weiner and the Italian Marco Enrico Bossi, a string quartet by the Russo-Canadian Airat Ichimouratov, plus the Piano Quintet by Amy Marcy Cheney Beach, among other intriguing offerings.

Considering the kind of repertoire it presents, it isn’t surprising that the Scarab Club Chamber Music Series attracts an attentive audience that is curious and open to exploring the byways of classical music.

Knowing that I was planning to travel to Detroit to attend the October 7th concert, I was asked by the Scarab’s co-artistic directors Nadine Deleury and Velda Kelly to moderate a Q&A session with the musicians during the intermission immediately following the presentation of Schmitt’s Pour presque tous les temps.

Nearly the entire audience stayed to hear the lively 20-minute interview. Highlights from the discussion are presented below:

PLN: Prior to preparing and performing the quartet Pour presque tous les temps, were you familiar with Florent Schmitt and his music?

Velda Kelly: I was familiar with the composer — particularly his Piano Quintet. But I hadn’t played anything by him before this.

Nadine Deleury: As a French musician, I was familiar with him of course. But I haven’t played any music by Florent Schmitt until now.

Dennis Carter: This was my first time discovering and playing Schmitt as well.

PLN: As a group, how did you come to choose this particular piece by Schmitt?

Nadine Deleury: Well, you had something to do with it, because as you’ll remember we corresponded about this composition for a number of years — how to obtain the score and a recording — before we decided to program it.

John McLaughlin Williams: This is a piece I had brought to the group as a possible repertoire item several times over the years.

Velda Kelly: As for why we decided to program it at the beginning of this season, it was because we would have extra time to rehearse over the summer rather than trying to fit it in between several concerts closer together. We could start our preparations a little earlier because we knew it was a challenging piece of music.

PLN: What were your initial impressions when you looked at the score?

Dennis Carter

Dennis Carter: I was terrified, actually. Just seeing the technical difficulties — the range for the flute, and the leaps and the octaves. But thankfully, things settled in pretty quickly and now everything is cool. I love the piece now.

Velda Kelly: I was charmed by what I saw when I looked at the score. I could tell that the music was extremely witty — and something that our audience would really enjoy.

Even though the music looked quite challenging and difficult to put together, the end result was lively and uplifting.

John McLaughlin Williams: I find much of Florent Schmitt’s music very pointillistic; it’s similar to the pointillistic style of painting. Like those paintings, when you’re standing far away everything has a very familiar shape, but when you’re up close, it’s a series of little dots or points of music which at first don’t seem to have a logical connection.

But in actuality, it’s extremely logical. Schmitt has things planned down to the very last 32nd rest. It’s an amazing application of technique, and it’s an inspiration.

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s 1956 quartet Pour presque tous les temps, inscribed by musicians of the Scarab Club Chamber Music Series.

PLN: What was it like to prepare Pour presque tous les temps for performance, and how did you approach rehearsing the music?

Nadine Deleury: This is very unusual for us, but we decided to hold some of our rehearsals with two or three of the musicians instead of all four. It’s actually quite rare for a small chamber group to split up like that for rehearsals, but in doing so we heard things in the music that we hadn’t discerned before. It was quite helpful to our preparation.

Velda Kelly

Velda Kelly: I actually think our best rehearsals were when we split into smaller groups. The sectional combinations we held were for the violin and cello; violin, cello and flute; and also violin, flute and piano.

Schmitt’s music has so much texture, it was difficult to process everything that was going on when all four of us were playing at once. But after these sectionals, things came together very nicely.

John McLaughlin Williams: The piano part is very rich and robust even on its own. Schmitt really knew how to compose for the keyboard. He was a pianist himself, and there’s an amazing corpus of music he wrote for the keyboard.

Visiting with musicians of the Scarab Club’s Chamber Music Series post-concert along with Fr. Edouard Perrone, conductor of Paul Paray’s complete orchestral and choral recordings made for Grotto Productions including two symphonies, sacred works, and ballet music. In addition to being a composer, Paul Paray (1886-1979) was a world-renowned music director of the Detroit Symphony and other orchestras who led more premiere performances of Florent Schmitt’s orchestral works than any other conductor. (Photo: Jay Reid)

Nadine Deleury: John, you’re first and foremost a violinist. I’ve been meaning to ask — how come you decided to play the piano part in this piece instead of the violin?

John McLaughlin Williams: That’s an easy question to answer: You asked me!

PLN: What you’re saying about these rehearsals mirrors what I hear often about Florent Schmitt’s scores — that they’re challenging even for highly trained musicians. Do you think Schmitt’s music is more complex than it needs to be?

John McLaughlin Williams: Absolutely not! It is true that Schmitt had a penchant for complexity, but as he moved along in his career we actually find that he’s able to achieve the same effects with a simpler palette.

Schmitt was very specific in the effects he wanted to achieve in his music. When you study his scores, you find that every note and every notation has a specific purpose; nothing is extraneous.

Another interesting observation I have when I look at this particular score is this: It would be very easy to orchestrate it. Even though the piece is scored for just four instruments, the way it’s written it’s very clear how one could expand the instrumentation to encompass a full symphony orchestra.

PLN: Do you have any comments you’d like to make about particular movements of the piece?

Nadine Deleury

Nadine Deleury: In the slow movement, I hear a theme from Bernstein’s West Side Story — but of course, Schmitt’s piece came first!

John McLaughlin Williams: I particularly love the second movement. It’s so typical of Schmitt’s music in that it’s surprising in where it leads.

It defies expectations. It starts out very dreamy in a classic French way, but then it seems to dissolve into something more dissonant and more dramatic. It’s a sort of an “expressionistic lullaby” — and a very contemporary aspect of Schmitt’s compositional style.

PLN: How would you characterize the musical style of Pour presque tous les temps beyond the general idea that it sounds “French”?

Igor Stravinsky (l.), photographed with Florent Schmitt in about 1910.

Velda Kelly: I definitely hear Poulenc in the music, and I also hear Stravinsky in spots — especially in the last movement with all of the rhythmic complexity and drive that it has.

Special thanks to these four musicians for taking the time to share their observations about Florent Schmitt and his music. It was an interesting and informative discussion; there’s no question that the audience was very favorably disposed to the music, heartily applauding both the performance and the subsequent Q&A session about the composer.

Considering the very positive reception Pour presque tous les temps received, other chamber music groups across North America would be well-advised to investigate this composition and add it to their repertoire as well.

Not long ago, a document surfaced on the Internet that dates from the time of the Paris Exposition of 1937. As Europe’s last great transnational gathering before World War II swept the continent, countries great and small exhibited their art and culture at the International Exposition of Art and Technology in Modern Life (as it was officially named) — along with a proffering a heavy dose of militarism and political ideology in some cases — on the banks of the Seine River.

Fêtes de la lumière at the Paris Exposition, 1937.

Among the most memorable events held during the Paris Exposition were the Fêtes de la lumières — symphonies of sound, lights and water for which 18 Parisian composers had been commissioned to create original works of music. These were broadcast along with accompanying choreographic displays of water and lights in truly memorable spectacles designed to touch all the senses.

The historical document in question is a typewritten page that lists the 18 composers and the their creations, referenced below in order of their debuts at the Paris Exposition along with the total number performances each piece received:

Florent Schmitt: Fête de la lumière (8 performances)

Jean Rivier: Fête de rêve (3)

Jacques Ibert: Fête nationale (1)

Elsa Barraine: Fête des colonies (1)

Darius Milhaud: Fête de la musique (4)

Raymond Loucheur: Fête de la Seine (6)

Manuel Rosenthal: Fête du vin (2)

Marcel Delannoy: Fête de la danse (3)

Claude Delvincourt: Fête de l’automne (3)

Louis Aubert: Fête de l’éte (2)

Paul Le Flem: Fête du printemps (1)

Arthur Honegger: Mille et un nuits (6)

Désiré-Emile Inghelbrecht: Fête enfantine (1)

Henry Barraud: Fête du feu (4)

Pierre Vellones: Fête fantastique (5)

Maurice Yvain: Fête du chanson (2)

Olivier Messiaen: Fête des belles eaux (6)

Charles Koechlin: Fête des eaux vives (3)

The most interesting aspect of the document is that the home addresses of all 18 composers are listed. All but two of the composers — Florent Schmitt and Marcel Delannoy — were residents of Paris at the time, and thanks to Google Maps it is possible to see those addresses today via Google’s “street view” mode.

Hardly surprising to anyone who has visited the City of Lights, what we find is that the composers resided in apartments scattered among nine of the twenty arrondissements in the city of Paris. Even today, all of the domiciles appear to be situated in decent or prosperous neighborhoods.

Gilles Poilvet

A French friend of mine, business finance expert and lifetime avocational pianist Gilles Poilvet, has commented to me that the domiciles of these composers are well in keeping with what Paris was then, and remains today:

“Since the 19th century, in-town residential Paris is made up of 99% apartments due to a transformation of the city as ordered by Emperor Napoleon III during the 1860s, when half of the city was totally rebuilt with large avenues and large buildings. I lived in Paris from 1990 to 1997 but left when I got married, because living in Paris with young children is a quite a nightmare!

Where we live now, in Le Havre, is just a two-hour drive from Paris. It isn’t difficult for us to spend time in Paris with my family — visiting the city as ‘tourists’ which is the most enjoyable way to experience Paris.”

Whereas all of the composers’ addresses in Paris are apartment buildings, Florent Schmitt’s situation was different. Rather than residing in the city, from 1910 onward Schmitt made his home in Saint-Cloud, a close-in suburb across the Seine River and situated fewer than a dozen miles from downtown Paris.

Florent Schmitt standing on the front steps of his St-Cloud home in 1937, the year of the Paris Exposition. (Photo: Boris Lipnitzki/Roger-Viollet)

Perhaps the reason Schmitt chose to live in St-Cloud was because neither he nor his wife originated as “city folk”: He was born in the small town of Blâmont in Lorraine; she was a Pyrénéenne from the extreme south of the country.

The Schmitt family lived in two places in St-Cloud during the ‘teens before ultimately settling at a large estate on the Rue du Calvaire in 1920, where Schmitt would live for the next 35 years until nearly the end of his long life (1958).

Double humide 4, painted by Mathieu Cherket in 2016. Notice the urns — the same ones from nearly 80 years ago.

On Google Maps’ street view, the differences between Schmitt and the other composers appear striking; whereas all of the other domiciles are shown as attractive 4- and 5-story walkup flats, Schmitt’s address comes up as a stone wall.

At first I was somewhat mystified, wondering what might have become of the Schmitt residence. Gilles Poilvet’s description of St-Cloud today wasn’t particularly encouraging, either:

“Saint-Cloud has changed a lot since 1937, and it’s very likely that most of the big houses of that time have been replaced by apartments and other large buildings. Schmitt would be surprised (and disappointed) by the incredible amount of traffic there. The changes in the town are explained by the upward pressure on residential prices in Paris and its suburbs. But there are still some large homes in St-Cloud owned by rich families.”

A study for Balcon pointu, Mathieu Cherkit’s painting of the second floor balcony of Maison Schmitt/Cherkit (2016).

Further intrigued, I switched to Google Maps’ satellite view, which revealed that while there are indeed several large apartment buildings across the road and down the street from the Rue du Calvaire address, the side of the road where Schmitt lived still shows what appear to be older residential structures.

Perhaps the existence of railroad tracks immediately behind these properties — likely predating the development of the suburb — has made this particular narrow strip of land inhospitable to the construction of large, multi-story apartment complexes like the ones that are found nearby.

Even more curiously, the spot denoting Schmitt’s address is completely obstructed by a forest of trees; as far as Google Maps’ satellite view is concerned, it’s as if there is no house there at all.

Entre deux, Mathieu Cherkit’s paintings of one of the entrances to Maison Schmitt/Cherkit in St-Cloud (2013).

But as it turns out, Florent Schmitt’s home still stands. Not only that, it remains in the hands of the very same family that took possession of the property following Schmitt’s departure in the mid-1950s.

Indeed, since that time, four generations of the same family have resided at this property. Today’s current resident of Schmitt’s home is a fellow-artist — but one of a different kind. He is the young French painter Mathieu Cherkit.

Mathieu Cherkit’s painting of the staircase at Maison Schmitt/Cherkit.

In fact, Cherkit has lived at the property on Rue du Calvaire nearly his entire life. Born in 1982, Cherkit spent his childhood in the home of his grandparents and continues to live there today with his own family, prolonging the duration of just two families — the Schmitts and Cherkits — owning this property to a full 100 years.

Not only that, it turns out that the house has become the inspiration for many of Mathieu Cherkit’s artistic creations. The artist informs me that he has created no fewer than 180 paintings that revolve around the house and its surrounding grounds. In a sense, the home and its “personality” act as a kind of muse to the artist.

Educated as a painter in Paris, Nantes and Leipzig, Cherkit’s artistry started becoming noticed in the art world beginning around 2010. Since that time his work has been exhibited in Paris and other French cities as well as outside the country.

Cherkit’s paintings are typically created as oils on canvas. They have been described as multilayered paintings that encompass bold pastels. Emmanuelle Le Bail, director of the Musée des Avelines, characterizes Cherkit’s artistry as follows:

“Mathieu’s paintings explode, saturate our eyes, challenge us — disturb us perhaps — and surely question us about what it is to be a painter today. They succeed as tours de force of figurative painting.”

Florent Schmitt, photographed at home in 1953 seated at the side doorway entrance leading to his study. (Photo: Boris Lipnitzki/Roger Viollet)

As for the role Maison Schmitt/Cherkit plays in all of this, it has become the primary focus of Cherkit’s more recent creations: an intimate look at his environment, translating his everyday life onto the canvas.

Nearly every nook and cranny of the house and grounds have become subjects of the artist’s paintings — now numbering some 180 creations.

Mathieu Cherkit paintings on display at the Musée des Avelines.

As French fellow artist Marc Desgrandschamps remarked upon the opening of an exhibition of Mathieu Cherkit’s paintings at the Tajan gallery in Paris in 2017:

Marc Desgrandchamps

“[In this exhibition] the young artist reproduces the reality of his familiar places — his daily wonders. It is a world of plenteousness — plenteous objects and vegetation in interiors and gardens where nothing happens … if attention to detail is the mark of precision, then it suffuses Mathieu Cherkit’s paintings in the abundance of details disseminated within his monumental compositions.

These details are clues to a narrative that wants reconstructing — an investigation that wants conducting. Around nothingness something eventually springs — the traces or beginnings of a story …”

“Around nothingness something eventually springs — the traces or beginnings of a story …” Dirty Banana, Mathieu Cherkit’s painting of the kitchen and passageway area of Maison Schmitt/Cherkit (2012).

One clearly notices the heritage — down to the very same urns that adorn the front steps of the home that were there back in Florent Schmitt’s own day. The dwelling itself seems untouched by time — the exterior, the architectural details, the parlors and kitchen/pantry spaces; some of the interior furnishings could well be holdovers from a century ago.

At the same time, this is very much the atelier of a contemporary artist in which the “tools of the trade” are clearly visible and in use in the several rooms and outbuildings that Cherkit uses as his studio spaces to create his paintings.

Mathieu Cherkit’s atelier on the top floor of Maison Schmitt/Cherkit.

Numerous everyday “found objects” find their way into Cherkit’s scenes, too, lending a sense of the ordinary to what is in many respects a very extraordinary place.

Open (2017). Mathieu Cherkit’s painting from the top floor of his home shows St-Cloud apartment buildings in the foreground. The Eiffel Tower is in the far distance, some 10 miles away.

In a way, the Cherkit property has become a vestige from an earlier age, as the march of time inexorably changes the character of the surrounding neighborhoods. St-Cloud today may be vastly different from before, but at Maison Schmitt/Cherkit the atmosphere is very much the same as it’s always been.

At the same time, it was also a place of refuge where Schmitt could retreat to create more than 70 significant musical compositions from 1920 onwards.

Today, it is Mathieu Cherkit’s place of refuge, inspiring as well as enabling him to create consequential paintings that command the attention of the art world.

En plein air — the artist at work: Mathieu Cherkit at Maison Schmitt/Cherkit.

Indeed, this century-long spirit of artistry is imbued in the property, giving it a personality of its own. Long may it continue to inspire!

To view additional paintings by Mathieu Cherkit, you can explore the artist’s online gallery on Artnet. There is also a brief radio interview from earlier this year that’s available on France-Culture in which the artist comes across as, in the words of author and musicologist Nicolas Southon, “a really cool, easy-going gentleman.”

Within the extensive catalogue of compositions by Florent Schmitt are a large number of choral works, great and small. Of these, music-lovers are likely to be most familiar with Schmitt’s grandiose setting of Psalm 47, which he composed in 1904 during his Prix de Rome period.

But most of Schmitt’s other choral works are vastly different from the Psalm. Of particular interest are five sets of pieces that he composed for female voices — all but one of which appeared comparatively late in the composer’s career:

The shortest of these — yet one of the most musically satisfying — is Trois trios, Opus 91 from 1940. Fittingly, Schmitt turned to a “trio” of contemporary writers for inspiration in composing this set of pieces, inspired by three poems published all in the same year (1936):

The February 1936 issue of La Nouvelle revue francaise brought out two of the three poems that Florent Schmitt set to music in his 1941 Trois trios — the ones by Jean Cocteau and Tristan Derème.

Tristan Derème was the nom de plume for Philippe Huc (1889-1941).

Indeed, as all three writers were particular favorites of the composer, Schmitt would turn to them for literary inspiration on several different occasions. In the case of Trois trios, the poetry gave the composer the opportunity to indulge in his penchant for “irony, fantasy and mischievousness,” as Canadian arts administrator Laurent Patenaude states it.

One of the characteristics of Trois trios that makes it such an appealing composition is the inventive chromaticism of the writing. Combined with the infectiously attractive blending of the female voices, it makes for a rich and robust sonic brew for sure.

Jean Maurice Eugène Clément Cocteau (1889-1963)

Schmitt scored the music so that it could be sung by a women’s chorus, or alternatively by three solo voices (a soprano, mezzo and contralto). But as was the case with many of his creations, the composer also prepared a version of Trois trios for voices and orchestra in addition to the one with piano.

As it so happened, it was in that form that the first public performance of the music occurred in April 1942, featuring three soloists (Mmes. Blanc-Andrea, Myrtal and Fleuret) rather than a full chorus, along with the Pasdeloup Orchestra.

Writing about that premiere performance in the pages of Les Nouveaux temps, the French arts journalist Robert Bernard noted:

“No musician is less bound than Florent Schmitt by a formula’s constraints, and a whole part of his creative output — a substantial and significant part, actually — is steeped in the most playful liveliness and an ironic verve that stretches ultimately to an utterly paradoxical and truculent fantasy. These pieces … fall into this category.”

Indeed, the three pieces that make up Trois trios couldn’t be more different — a military song followed by a nocturne and then a really bizarre nursery rhyme (trust me on this).

Trois trios was published by Durand et Cie. in 1947, five years after the premiere performance.

Original Calliope release (2001).

I first came to know Trois trios on a commercial recording of Florent Schmitt’s complete works for female chorus, recorded in 2001 by the Choeur des femmes calliope directed by Régine Théodoresco.

Both of these performances are fine interpretations, with the vocalists and pianists navigating Schmitt’s sometimes complex rhythms and harmonies with real aplomb.

An example of the many René Chalupt literary creations set to music. The 1934 composition pictured here is by Albert Roussel, with the score inscribed by the composer.

More recently, a public performance of Trois trios has came to light — one that emanates from Tokyo, Japan. Presented in 2008, it features the Mimosa Chorus directed by Hiroshi Goto along with pianist Rieko Kanehara. I am equally impressed with the effectiveness of this performance … and you can judge for yourself as well, courtesy of YouTube:

Unfortunately, what none of these performances gives us is Schmitt’s version for chorus with orchestra; we can only imagine how effective that would be — master orchestrator that Schmitt was.

As with the composer’s elusive orchestral version of the 1931 Six choeurs, here’s hoping that an enterprising conductor will be inspired to bring these orchestral arrangements to us in the near future.

Florent Schmitt, photographed at about the time Feuillets de voyage was published by Durand et Cie. (1913).

Often, composers “favor” instruments that they themselves know how to play. Florent Schmitt’s own instruments were the piano, organ and flute, so it shouldn’t be too surprising that a significant number of this composer’s creations would feature these instruments.

In particular, Schmitt was a highly proficient pianist, which helps explain the expressiveness and effectiveness of his piano compositions – not forgetting their technical challenges as well.

Florent Schmitt’s complete works for duo-pianists — a 4-CD set recorded by the Invencia Piano Duo in 2011-13.

One of the most delightful of these works is Feuillets de voyage, Opus 26. This “travel diary” is a set of ten pieces for piano duet that was published in 1905 by Berlin-based Schlesingerische Buch- und Musikhandlung – two livres of five numbers each.

The LeRoi-Nickel Piano Duo recording on the Arsis label (2008).

The composition was begun in 1903 when Schmitt was rounding out his four-year Prix de Rome tenure.

Considering that the score was completed and published within two years of its inception, why it took nearly a decade longer (1913) for the music to be brought out by Durand, Schmitt’s regular publisher in Paris, is anyone’s guess.

A vintage copy of the score to Florent Schmitt’s Feuillets de voyage (1903-5), one of several sets of piano pieces he composed for piano duet. This transcription for solo piano was prepared by the composer in 1926.

How best to describe these ten pieces? To begin with, they’re utterly charming numbers – miniatures that typically last only a few minutes each (just two of the ten numbers clock in at longer than four minutes). One can definitely discern the spirit of Robert Schumann — but also of Chabrier — in these pieces which are by turns whimsical, lyrical, and robustly dynamic.

The Ivaldi-Pennetier recording on the Timpani label (2008).

The entire set is meaty musical material – far more than salon pieces, even if they are reminiscent of “salon style” in some respects.

Unlike Reflets d’Allemagne, another piano duet set of pieces that Schmitt composed at roughly the same time and where each movement was named after a city in the Germanic world, for the most part the individual movements that make up Feuillets de voyage aren’t descriptive of any particular place. Instead, the descriptive titles the composer gave to the numbers are as follows:

Book 1

Sérénade

Visite

Compliments

Douceur du soir (Twilight)

Danse britannique (Dance of Brittany)

Book 2

Berceuse

Mazurka

Marche burlesque

Retour à l’endroit familier (Return to Familiar Surroundings)

Valse

Book 1 begins with an elegant serenade in three-quarter time. There follow three movements that are introspective in mood, and the set concludes with an energetic Dance of Brittany.

First recording: Isabel Beyer and Harvey Dagul on the Four Hands Music label (1998/2000).

Book 2 starts quietly with a lilting lullaby that is followed by a stately mazurka and then a biting, sarcastic march-burlesque. A delicate and whimsical flavor informs the Returning Home movement, but that doesn’t end Schmitt’s travel diary. Instead, the composer finishes up with a rumbustious waltz — a highly infectious number that gathers up the listener in its swirl of excitement.

During his career, Schmitt was known for penning some highly effective compositions in waltz-time … and this one from Feuillets de voyage is one of the very best examples.

Isabel Beyer and Harvey Dagul

Considering the wit and charm of these pieces, it’s a wonder that they aren’t well-known and that more pianists don’t perform them — but arguably Feuillets de voyage is even more obscure than Reflets d’Allemagne.

Even so, we are fortunate that four commercial recordings have been made of this music – although the first one didn’t appear until the late 1990s — nearly a century following the music’s composition:

All four of these interpretations have their own special qualities, and each of them is well-worth getting to know. Certainly, there are some contrasts in the approach each of the duo-pianist teams take with the music — with several of the interpretations emphasizing lyricism while others being more rhythmically incisive — but to my ears each of them is thoroughly valid.

LeRoi-Nickel Piano Duo

The release dates of the commercial recordings suggest that Feuillets de voyage has been growing in visibility only in the past decade or so.

At the time that the Beyer/Dagul premiere recordings appeared on the Four Hands Music label, the CD liner notes reported that the pieces “seem to be totally neglected at the present time.” Happily, those circumstances have since changed; beginning in 2008 there were three additional commercial recordings released in quick succession.

Invencia Piano Duo

Heightened interest in Schmitt’s score is also borne out by several live performances of this music that have been uploaded to YouTube and SoundCloud in recent years. You can view one such example here.

In a sense, we shouldn’t be surprised at the emergence of this music — even if it’s late in the game. Not only are they thoroughly enchanting pieces guaranteed to please an audience, the fact that they were created for performance on a single piano makes the “logistics” of presenting them in recital easier as compared to a work like Schmitt’s Trois rhapsodies (1903-4) which requires two instruments.

In another parallel to Reflets d’Allemagne, Schmitt orchestrated seven of the ten numbers that make up Feuillets de voyage (all except for Visite and Douceur du soir from Book 1 and the Mazurka from Book 2). This practice wasn’t unusual for Schmitt, who orchestrated many of his creations for piano and also for voice. (It’s a double treat for us, too, considering Schmitt’s dazzling orchestration abilities in the grandest post-Rimsky tradition.)

A view of the Théâtre Fémina from about the time of the premiere performance of Florent Schmitt’s orchestral version of Feuillets de voyage (1913). The theatre was located on the Boulevard des Champs-Élysées in the 8th arrondissement of Paris.

The orchestral version of Feuillets de voyage was premiered in 1913 at the Théâtre Fémina in Paris conducted by Joseph-Eugène Szyfer (1887-1947). (It is conceivable that the occasion of this orchestral premiere might have prompted Durand’s publication of the piano score in the same year.)

Interestingly, whereas Schmitt’s biographer Yves Hucher lists seven of the ten original numbers as being orchestrated by the composer, the published orchestral score by Durand includes just five, presented in the following sequence:

Sérénade – from Book 1

Retour à l’endient familier – from Book 2

Danse britannique – from Book 1

Berceuse – from Book 2

Marche burlesque – from Book 2

If the remaining two orchestrated numbers – Compliments from Book 1 and particularly the terrific Valse from Book 2 – are now lost, that would indeed be a shame.

Jacques Houtmann

Unfortunately, no commercial recording of the orchestral version of Feuillets has ever been made, nor do we have audio documentation of any live orchestral performance available to hear. Indeed, I have been able to find just one instance of this music being performed by any orchestra in the postwar period – in 2002 by the Orchestre National de Lorraine conducted by Jacques Houtmann.

… Which is a situation that should definitely be redressed. Here’s hoping that more conductors will investigate this music and bring it to today’s audiences.

Cello scores by Florent Schmitt, found in a Paris music store in June 2018. Schmitt composed three cello concertante works during his early, middle and later creative periods: Chant élégiaque (1899-1903), Final (1926); Introït, récit et conge (1948). (Photo: Aaron Merritt)

Over a composing career of seven decades, Florent Schmitt would pen music featuring nearly every instrument of the symphony orchestra in a solo capacity. The cello was no exception.

Florent Schmitt’s stay at the Villa Medici in Rome (1900-04) was notable for the amount of time he wasn’t there — instead traveling extensively on three continents.

[Actually, the word “stay” isn’t quite accurate, as Schmitt spent the lion’s share of his Prix de Rome period traveling throughout Europe, across the Mediterranean and in the Near East.]

The Chant élégiaque is an achingly gorgeous piece of music that, to my ears, seems clearly influenced by Schmitt’s teacher and mentor, Gabriel Fauré, who had composed his own Élégie for Cello in the 1880s. In addition to sharing a similar title, the two works are similar in length.

Yet despite these similarities, Schmitt’s piece has its own distinct character and is every bit as much of a gem as Fauré’s essay.

Jean Bedetti (1883-1973)

As was customary for many of his compositions, Schmitt scored Chant élégiaque in two versions — the first one featuring cello with piano and a later arrangement for cello with orchestra. The first performance of the orchestral version happened in 1912 at the Concerts Colonne, featuring cellist Jean Bedetti with the orchestral forces conducted by Gabriel Pierné.

A 1923 announcement promoting cellist Jean Bedetti’s U.S. performances. The French-born artist served as principal cellist at the Paris Opéra-Comique and the Colonne Concerts Orchestra before becoming principal cellist of the Boston Symphony Orchestra in 1919 — a post he would hold for nearly three decades. Bedetti presented the first public performance of Florent Schmitt’s Chant élégiaque (orchestral version) in 1912, joined by the Colonne Orchestra under the direction of Gabriel Pierné.

More than a century later, it’s hard to fathom how a creation as richly beautiful as the Chant élégiaque has remained virtually unknown. And yet, such is the case.

It is very rarely performed, and to my knowledge, the piece has been commercially recorded just one time each in its piano and orchestral versions — the former with cellist Philippe Bary and pianist Véronique Roux on the Cybelia label in the 1980s, and the latter on the Eurodisc label in 1980 by cellist David Geringas with the Berlin Radio Symphony Orchestra conducted by Lawrence Foster.

The original Eurodisc LP release (1980).

Considering the rarity of the Schmitt work, the Eurodisc issue (two separate LPs) carried a rather puzzling title: Berühmte Celloromanzen (Famous Cello Romances). In fairness, a number of the other pieces recorded by Geringas for the collection — selections by Bruch, Dvořák, Glazunov, Saint-Saëns and others — do certainly qualify as “famous” cello pieces.

I have loved the Geringas recording of Chant élégiaque ever since first hearing it in the early 1980s, but no other orchestral recording has came along since then.

Over the years I’ve tried to interest numerous cellists in this score. It hasn’t been an easy undertaking, as the Cybelia recording of the piano version, never given much circulation outside of France, has disappeared without a trace.

The equally short-lived Eurodisc LP release did not appear again until well into the CD era. Even now, the recording is difficult to obtain outside of Europe, and so most cellists had no easy way to hear the music’s charms — at least not until very recently when the Geringas recording was uploaded to SoundCloud.

Elisa Kohanski

Then in 2016 I was introduced to the American cellist Elisa Kohanski, who would take a keen interest in Schmitt’s piece. A native Rhode Islander who has made her professional career based in Pittsburgh (Pennsylvania), Kohanski keeps up a busy schedule as soloist, chamber music player and member of several ensembles including the PittsburghOpera and Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre orchestras.

The two of us met following a concert by the Wheeling (West Virginia) Symphony Orchestra, for which Kohanski serves as the cello section principal. On the Wheeling program was the suite from Fauré’s Pelléas et Mélisande. I was particularly taken with Kohanski’s solo cello passages in the first movement of the suite, which were conveyed with a rare poignancy.

Becoming acquainted with Elisa Kohanski at a reception following a May 2016 Wheeling Symphony Orchestra concert — and talking about Gabriel Fauré and Florent Schmitt.

At a post-concert reception, the two of us had an opportunity to converse about our mutual love for Fauré’s music, during which time I spoke with her about Fauré’s pupil Florent Schmitt, and how Schmitt had also composed an elegiac cello piece in a similar vein to Fauré’s masterpiece.

Recently I had the opportunity to visit again with Elisa Kohanski, asking her to share her “voyage of discovery” regarding the Chant élégiaque — along with soliciting her perspectives on the stylistic connections between the Fauré and Schmitt scores. Highlights of our discussion are presented below.

PLN: Before being introduced to Florent Schmitt’s Chant élégiaque, were you familiar with this composer or his music?

ECK: I must admit that I had never heard of Florent Schmitt or his music before you introduced me to several of his compositions in 2016. Since then, I have thoroughly enjoyed my exploration of this composer and his music, along with the informative articles that I’ve read on the Florent Schmitt Website.

When I began to research Schmitt’s scores, I was pleasantly surprised to see the large body of works listed, and I’m equally surprised by how relatively unknown he remains. I know that you and others are trying to change that; I have to think that in time, more people will experience the joy of discovering Schmitt’s music.

PLN: What were your initial impressions of Chant élégiaque when you heard it for the first time?

ECK: I was quite surprised at the beauty of the music in my first hearing which was about two years ago. It is a dramatic and lush piece!

The Eurodisc Geringas reissue: two volumes consolidated onto one CD.

I loved the textures and the colors in the David Geringas recording with orchestra. The cello-and-piano version, which I think is the one that Schmitt composed first, is also rich in texture and full of rhythmic and dynamic variety.

I listened to the piece many times, and finally decided that I had to perform it. And so, earlier this year I paired it with Gabriel Fauré’s Élégie to present during a church service in Pittsburgh, PA — Shadyside Presbyterian Church — on Valentine’s Day. Jack Kurutz, one of my regular piano collaborators in Pittsburgh, joined me in the performance.

The pairing of the Schmitt and Fauré pieces worked very well, and the feedback I received from the members of the congregation was extremely positive. No one had heard of Florent Schmitt, but they all expressed how much they loved the piece. I encouraged them to visit the Florent Schmitt Website to explore more about the composer and his music.

PLN: Florent Schmitt was a student of Gabriel Fauré, and Fauré composed his famous Élégie for Cello approximately 20 years before Schmitt wrote the Chant élégiaque. Do you see similarities in the two scores — or any sort of stylistic debt that Schmitt may owe to Fauré in this piece?

Three photo-portraits of Gabriel Fauré (1845-1924) in early, middle and later life. Fauré was Florent Schmitt’s teacher and mentor at the Paris Conservatoire.

ECK: I was very excited to learn about the connection between Florent Schmitt and Gabriel Fauré as student and teacher, as I absolutely love Fauré’s music. My first experience with the Élégie was in high school when I performed it in a competition for a memorial scholarship in my first teacher’s name, Ruth Trexler.

That first performance was a powerfully emotional experience and I wound up winning the scholarship. The piece became something I’ve treasured ever since for its beautiful and moving melodies — not to mention its significance as music that is inextricably linked to my development as an artist.

The Chant élégiaque definitely has elements and aspects which seem to come from Fauré’s influence. Beyond the obvious fact that both pieces are elegiac in their mood, in both compositions the beginning cello melody has a repeated rhythmic figure in the accompaniment.

There are also sections in both pieces in which three components are present — repeated rhythmic accompaniment in one piano line with a melody in the other, along with a second melodic line in the cello part.

PLN: What about differences between the two pieces?

ECK: Yes, there are differences; Fauré’s Élégie has more static, slow-changing harmonies while Schmitt’s music has a greater rate of harmonic change. Both compositions contain sustained chordal harmonies, but the Fauré utilizes steady eighth notes whereas Schmitt incorporates syncopation. Both pieces also feature a strong rhythmic drive leading up to a climax.

As for some other differences, Fauré uses chromaticism primarily to transition from one section to another while Schmitt incorporates chromaticism as a core element of his thematic material. Perhaps this is due to the later date of Schmitt’s composition; during that era in classical music development, a difference of just 20 years is a pretty significant period of time.

Fauré’s repeated slow rhythms create a bit of a calming effect, whereas in the Schmitt the varied and syncopated rhythmic patterns add tension. Fauré often takes turns with the melody, alternating between cello and piano, whereas Schmitt juxtaposes the melodic lines in the cello and accompaniment simultaneously.

I appreciate both the similarities and the differences, and when all is said and done, I think that both pieces are magnificent cello works.

PLN: Looking at the score to Chant élégiaque, is the writing for cello idiomatic and natural, or are there aspects that seem to be unusual or awkward?

ECK: Delightful as it is to say, the piece is idiomatic for the cello and it feels very natural to play. There is a lot of chromaticism which one would expect during this time period, but the only somewhat dicey moment is a huge leap up to high G#.

Jack Kurutz

For the pianist, the music does present challenges in its sweeping lines and large leaps with dense chords, along with brief dramatic outbursts covering large swaths of the keyboard. I’ve read that Schmitt was quite a good pianist — and you can certainly tell that in the way he constructed the piano part for this piece.

One of the primary gauges for me with music is considering if the technical difficulty is worth the commitment to learn it. Is there a great musical payoff? In this case, I would say, “Absolutely!”

PLN: Please tell us more about bringing Chant élégiaque into your repertoire.

ECK: I’m extremely excited to add this beautiful piece to my repertoire. It’s well-suited for any performance venue and I have requested to play it in several programs. I’m in the process of scheduling the upcoming season along with my repertoire for the concerts, and I hope to include it in at least a few of them.

PLN: Does becoming acquainted with the Chant élégiaque make you interested in getting to know some of Schmitt’s other compositions — instrumental, chamber and even orchestral works?

ECK: It surely does! It’s very exciting to be able to find music that one wouldn’t normally be exposed to in the more commonly performed repertoire.

Of course, we all want to learn the standard repertoire; it’s standard for a reason. However, there is so much incredible music out there that has been largely overlooked. I’m in the process of listening to Schmitt’s other compositions and, of course, I read about them and listen to them when you post new articles on the Florent Schmitt Blog.

I only wish he had written music for multiple cellos!

PLN: You keep up a very busy schedule of concertizing and performing, in addition to teaching. What are some of your current activities?

Trebinje, Bosnia-Herzegovina

ECK: In addition to my work with the PittsburghOpera, the Pittsburgh Ballet Theatre and the Wheeling Symphony Orchestra, I present solo and chamber music programs in the United States and also overseas. In the first two weeks of August I’ll be at the Music & More SummerFest in Trebinje, Bosnia as a faculty-artist participant — the inaugural year for this program.

Cellist Elisa Kohanski on Antarctica (2016).

I consider myself fortunate to have had the opportunity to perform on all seven continents. Even further afield, I can claim the distinction of having performed the cello on Antarctica — to an audience of penguins (!) — and this past summer I also played on an iceberg in the Arctic Circle. I like to joke that I could be classified as a “bipolar” musician!

I’ll be sure to inform you about the next time I will be performing the Chant élégiaque, so that Florent Schmitt aficionados can make plans to come hear it in concert should they wish to do so.

___________________

For lovers of Florent Schmitt’s music — and cello music in general — the prospects of being able to experience the Chant éléqiaque live is a tantalizing prospect, indeed! Grateful thanks to Elisa Kohanski for becoming a modern-day champion of this repertoire — music that’s “rare and well-done.”

[Incidentally, a live performance by Kohanski and Kurutz has been uploaded to SoundCloud and can be accessed via this link.]

One of the most memorable highlights of my concert-going life was hearing Florent Schmitt’s stunning choral masterpiece Psaume XLVII, Op. 38 presented at Lincoln Center in New York City. Although I was well-familiar with the piece, having discovered it several decades earlier, this was the first opportunity I’d had to see it performed live in concert.

Like many a MET Opera soloist, Miss Uecker’s career has encompassed many productions featuring varied languages and composers ranging from Mozart, Verdi and Smetana to Humperdinck and Richard Strauss. In more recent times she has been a recital artist concertizing in the United States and Europe, as well as starring as soloist in some of the great symphonic and choral works in the repertoire. She is a champion of women composers and contemporary American music, and her musical activities also extend to cabaret, jazz and American musical theatre.

When I saw the Lincoln Center performance of Psalm 47, I was deeply moved by Miss Uecker’s breathtaking solo passages soaring high above the orchestra — and also wowed by her highly attractive stage presence. In short, it was a stellar presentation that has remained a fresh memory ever since.

The refectory at Shattuck-St. Mary’s School (Faribault, MN), where I met Korliss Uecker for a (very) early morning interview.

Fast-forward to June 2018 … and I had the good fortune to meet Miss Uecker and visit with her about her experience in singing Florent Schmitt’s Psaume.

Even though we reside in different states on the East Coast, this past June we found ourselves just a few miles apart in the state of Minnesota, where I was visiting family and Miss Uecker was participating as a faculty member in the Collaborative Piano Institute’s annual program being held at Shattuck-St. Mary’s School in Faribault.

Because of scheduling necessities, Miss Uecker and I ended up meeting at 7:00 am for our interview (she remarked that this was the earliest interview she’d ever granted to anyone!). Despite the extreme early hour and the lack of morning coffee, we spent an engaging 90 minutes together, reminiscing about the 1997 concert and her interesting career activities since then. Highlights of the conversation are presented below.

PLN: It’s been quite a while since you performed Florent Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII at Lincoln Center in New York City. Do you recall how the opportunity to sing this music came about?

Leon Botstein

KU: Leon Botstein, music director of the American Symphony Orchestra who had decided to program the Psalm, was looking for a soprano solo for the piece. I had not heard of Florent Schmitt until I received a call from Leon’s office to come in for an interview and an audition.

I did some quick research on the composer, but was unable to become very familiar with the Psalm 47 solo part because Leon had wanted to see me in four days. So I sang passages from the Brahms Requiem which have a similar arching high line, and I think I also sang the Poulenc song Ce …, which also has that very high arching line (plus it’s also French).

And then I was hired, and the work of preparation began.

PLN: To many people, Schmitt’s Psalm 47 is a surprising discovery. They are amazed that such an impressive choral piece is so little known and so rarely performed. What was your initial reaction to the music when you became acquainted with it?

KU: When I got hold of the score, I was totally blown away by it. To tell you the truth, I was kind of overwhelmed by the enormity of it all — it’s such a big piece with the chorus and organ and all. But I was very excited as well.

PLN: How would you go about preparing a piece like Psalm 47 for performance? Is there a particular routine that you follow — especially when preparing unfamiliar music for the first time?

KU: Typically, I get together with pianists who are good at working with orchestral scores so that they can provide a kind of “big picture” view of the music. In the case of the Schmitt, I also checked my French with Mme. Marguerite Meyerowitz from Juilliard who had remained my French coach since my days as a student there, just to make sure there wasn’t anything unusual or peculiar with the Biblical text.

After that, I sat at the piano and started learning my part note by note and phrase by phrase.

I don’t recall that I had a recording of the Psalm when I prepared for the concert. Today, thanks to YouTube, it’s more common for people to listen to other performances. While there’s a risk that you might not retain your own personal interpretation of the music, it is a great aid.

But I encourage people to try to get their own sense of the poetry and music in a room by themselves, seeing what their own reaction to the piece is before listening to others. The danger is losing your own individuality in the process of hearing other singers.

As for the Psalm, I didn’t have trouble learning it, but I do recall that the cueing was very complicated during rehearsal and in the performance, because Leon had so much to do with cueing the orchestral and choral entrances. It isn’t easy music — certainly not as easy as a Mozart or Fauré Requiem or something more straightforward like that. And Schmitt’s musical writing is very thick; the texture is very rich.

Also, we didn’t have a lot of rehearsal time available — one full rehearsal and then a final run-through in Fisher Hall [now David Geffen Hall].I do remember that I took the concertmaster aside — Eric Wyrick — and asked him, “Leon’s so busy — how would you feel about giving me a cue here or there?” I didn’t really want to bother Leon because he was already cueing left and right.

Eric was kind enough to give me a couple of special cues which were very helpful during the performance — just to double-check where I was coming in and to make sure it was spot-on. There was so much going on and it was very challenging being in the middle of that sound. I was in the front of the orchestra but the sound was all around me. It isn’t like an opera stage where the orchestra and conductor are in the pit, facing the performers.

Some of the entrances for the soprano and for the chorus aren’t always that “obvious” in this piece. I was a little surprised at that because of the period when the music was written. But then again, you never know — after all, with someone like Debussy anything goes, and Debussy and Schmitt were working in the same time in France.

Korliss Uecker celebrating with husband Jerry Grossman at an event honoring him as the longest-held principal cello chair in MET Opera history (Lincoln Center, April 2018).

One other thing I discovered when preparing this piece was that there were tremendous Schmitt fans around. My husband, Jerry Grossman, is principal of the cello section in the MET Opera Orchestra. There was a fellow cellist in the MET Orchestra at the time — Sam Magill — who was just “on” this. He was so excited that I was singing the Psalm.

Samuel Magill

Not only was Sam there for the performance, during the entire run-up to the concert he was constantly asking me how things were going with the preparation. He and others seemed so genuinely excited that this piece was being programmed — and that I was the one doing it.

PLN: The contemporary American composer Kenneth Fuchs has written this about Schmitt’s composition: “The Psalm’s language is not Germanic, but the dimensions somehow are.” Does this characterization seem “on point” to you?

Kenneth Fuchs

KU: It’s interesting that you bring up Ken Fuchs, because I’ve known Ken going back to my days at Juilliard. In some ways I would agree with his perspective on this piece, but actually I can think of some Germanic comparisons.

Maybe Richard Strauss, too. But it’s not a tonality comparison; it’s more the busy activity within the orchestra and all the inner voices.

PLN: What do you think of the “big profile” of this piece? Are there stylistic elements that appeal to you most especially?

KU: I love the profile of the Psalm. Indeed, the scope of it is gigantic. It was very exciting to be at the epicenter of such a massive and expressive piece of music.

It felt to me like it was operatic — like when I did Ariadne auf Naxos in concert with Wolfgang Sawallisch and the Philadelphia Orchestra — as compared to when I sing something like Mozart’s Exsultate jubilate which is crisp and clean, where I’m the soloist here and the orchestra is there.

Recently I sang in the Mahler Resurrection Symphony, and that had somewhat of a similar feeling to me.

PLN: For some listeners, the middle section of the Psalm with the soprano solo is the emotional high-point of the piece rather than the two outer sections — even with all of their power. What is it like to sing those solo passages?

KU: Those passages are quite exhilarating because of their sweep and expressiveness. They were actually quite easy for me because they set very well within the range of my voice.

I loved the experience of singing the piece; I would love to sing it again.

PLN: Singing in the French language can present challenges for American choruses. Did you notice any particular problems of this kind when rehearsing the Psalm?

KU: The chorus was very well prepared and top-quality, including the French diction. It’s likely the chorus was comprised of many Juilliard and MSM [Manhattan School of Music] graduates, so the talent level was high as it invariably is in New York City.

I’m not sure how the French would have sounded had the piece been performed outside of New York!

The ASO program, inscribed by soprano Korliss Uecker when we finally met this year.

PLN: ASO music director Leon Botstein, who conducted your performance, is known as a champion of lesser-known repertoire. In fact, your concert shared billing with music by two other rarely performed French composers: Vincent d’Indy and Albéric Magnard. Have the two of you collaborated on other projects since then?

KU: I loved working with Leon and I would like to work with him again. Unfortunately we haven’t done any projects together since the Schmitt, although recently I did suggest to him a piece by Lowell Liebermann titled Six Songs of Nelly Sachs. It’s a piece I premiered in 1986 with the pianist David Korevaar, and later presented the version with orchestra. It’s one of several Liebermann work’s I’ve premiered, including an opera, The Picture of Dorian Gray, done in Monaco.

Lowell Liebermann

Nelly Sachs’ poetry in these songs is World War II-era themes of yearning, grief and the Holocaust, and I think it would be right up Leon’s alley. It’s from a period that’s frequently a focus of his programs; it has a niche. Like the Schmitt, the Liebermann songs are heavily textured, beautifully orchestrated — and quite difficult.

I sent the music to Leon to see what he would think of doing those. So now he’s aware of the score, and if it fits into one of his future thematic programs, hopefully he’ll consider presenting it.

PLN: Are there other pieces of French music besides Schmitt’s Psalm that you keep in your repertoire?

Pauline Viardot-Garcia, French vocalist and composer (1821-1910).

KU: I sing a good deal French repertoire, and I try to include some French music in every program I present. I sing Ravel and Poulenc a lot, but I also like to explore lesser-known repertoire. For instance, right now I’ve been focusing on the composer Pauline Viardot-Garcia.

More broadly, when it comes to female composers I’ve been exploring Johanna Kinkel as well as presenting the works of other women composers who aren’t well-known at all.

PLN: Tell us a little about your current music activities, and future projects on the horizon.

KU: On the women composers theme, I’ve been focusing on this music with the soprano Tammy Hensrud. Together we’ve presented works by composers like Cécile Chaminade and Juliana Hall in addition to the other ones I just mentioned. My collaboration with Tammy is unique because as an ensemble, which is named Feminine Musique, we’re concentrating on “soprano duo” repertoire, including exploration of women composers as well as new commissions. It’s a broad scope of repertoire which practically no one else is doing to such an extent.

It turns out that there’s a lot more music than just the famous duet from Lakmé. I wonder if Schmitt wrote any music for soprano duo — because if so, we’d certainly be interested in exploring it.

Just last month we presented several concerts in Germany, and the reviews were very positive. What I find is that in Germany the audiences are looking for something different — but at the same time they hold singers to a very high standard. So the reception we received was particularly gratifying. Those concerts also included works by more familiar composers like Rossini, Offenbach and Humperdinck.

My European activities have been particularly interesting and rewarding, such as a recital Tammy and I did last year at the estate of George Sand in France. The property is in a remote location, but the event was well-attended because the George Sand Association is a particularly active society.

George Sand Estate (Nohant, France)

The event was highly historical in that the concert focused on the musicians and artists George Sand interacted with during her life. The repertoire we presented was fascinating — just as fascinating as our pianist and the audience members turned out to be, I might add.

I’m also involved in working with young composers in commissioning new works. As for more established contemporary composers, I have never performed any of Ken Fuchs’ scores, but I’m in touch with him and I really need to perform some of his music.

I’m looking forward to some exciting upcoming projects as well, including several new premieres and concerts with old and new colleagues. I’m hopeful that one of them will be with mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe. Feminine Musique will also be returning to Germany next spring for an operatic concert in Bad Ems.

Michael Ching

Another upcoming performance is an event with the Fargo Moorhead Opera in October. As a native North Dakotan, it has been a special opera company to me throughout my career, and I’m particularly excited to be joining them to celebrate the company’s 50th anniversary in a special concert conducted by Michael Ching.

Of particular interest to your readers is a concert of all-French music I’m preparing for February that will feature songs by Florent Schmitt and Ravel as well as ones by Pauline Viardot, Lili Boulanger, Augusta Holmès and Mel Bonis. Right now I’m working through the repertoire, looking for particularly interesting material that may not be familiar to most music-lovers, and that’s a very interesting process.

The Collaborative Piano Institute program here at Shattuck is quite unique in the field. Now in its second year, its mission is to teach pianists how to work in collaboration with singers. The pianists I’ve spoken with say that they don’t know of any other program of this kind.

We have experts like Martin Katz and Howard Watkins here, and my role in the program is coaching the young pianists as they hone their skills in working with vocalists.

PLN: Are there any additional observations you would like to make about Psaume XLVII and the opportunity you were given to perform it?

KU: Just that it was the chance of a lifetime to sing a rare and wonderful piece of music — a presentation that was so special, I wore a Dior gown for the performance. It seemed the right thing to do for such a significant occasion!

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We share Miss Uecker’s opinion that Schmitt’s Psaume XLVII is indeed something very special, and we hope that another opportunity to sing the glorious soprano solo part in this piece will come her way in the future.